


Right Place, Right Time (But Bad Time)

by Bam4Me



Series: I Wanted To Keep Him [1]
Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: 15 yo Obi, 21 yo Jango, Alive Jaster, Asexual Jango, But they moved from the Mandalore sector, Cause someone wanted them all dead, First of a series, Force Bond (Star Wars), Force Soulmates, Future non sexual kink series, Galidraan fix it fic, Gen, He's also a bit of a daddys boy omfg, Hurt Obi-Wan Kenobi, Jango has issues with touching that are confusing, Jango is a mess, Jaster is a good dad, M/M, Obi is a mess too tbh, Obi-Wan isn't a Padawan, Soulmates, Soulmates because Obi has force visions of Jango, Touch-Starved, True Mandalorians are all alive, Young Obi-Wan Kenobi, arguably - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-01
Updated: 2018-08-01
Packaged: 2019-06-20 04:19:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15525897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bam4Me/pseuds/Bam4Me
Summary: Jango had no idea what that blinking light meant. He hadn't even known it was a light. He just thought it was a strange little blip in the dashboard, and now it's blinking. Well, nothing for it but to find a mechanic.





	Right Place, Right Time (But Bad Time)

**Author's Note:**

> General idea for this fic: Palpatine wanted the True Mandalorians dead, so he tried to set up a trap with the Death Watch, but it didn't work, so they all ran away to the Rishi Maze to hide, and they've all mostly been doing bounty hunting and hunts that could get them information on who tried to kill them all and how they can stop them, so Obi-Wan didn't get chosen by Qui-Gon for a padawan, so he was working in the MechaniCorps cause he got pissed they wanted to send him to AgriCorps and told them he wanted a different place to go to, so he goes to the spaceport, and Jango eventually ends up bringing him home through events that happen in the fic, and the Jedi all think Obi is dead for a long time, till he shows up again 6 years later as a bounty hunter/escort (he had to convince someone he was an escort to get close enough to get dirt on them to get them ruined) and now the Jedi are freaking out cause one of their kids has to resort to prostitution to get by (he doesn't, and it's lol af) and basically, yeah. So, anyways, have fun with this one.
> 
> padawansuggest.tumblr.com

Jango didn’t know what was wrong with his ship. That light has _never_ blinked before, he swears. He didn’t even know that _was_ a light, since it’s never blinked before. What does that mean? Is the fuel tank low? Is the engine on fire? Is his ship judging him for being stupidly hungover? He has no idea. Oh, frip him sideways.

 

The closest space port was on kriffing Coruscant of all places, orbiting in the space about half a planet away from the senate and the Jedi temple. He was at least thankful for that, but Jaster _had_ asked him to avoid the whole sector itself if he could.

 

Well, for the sake of his hangover -and the hopeful thought that there might be a greasy food stop in the space port that he could get the most fat filled burger he can find to soak up some of this headache- meaning that he was honestly too fuzzy headed to figure out why that light is blinking when it’s never blinked before since Jaster gave him the ship, he’s decided to make the executive decision to land and find some sort of repair guy. Probably some greasy middle aged jerk who will take one look at the True Mandalorian markings on the inside of the ship’s haul and immediately sell him out to a journalist about it.

 

Then he’d be hungover _and_ likely to be running for his life from Judicial and whoever the hell else wants to kidnap him to convince his father to give up the True Mandalorian position. No wonder Jaster told him to stay away if he could help it.

 

He shouldn’t have had that weird blue drink last night. All the barkeep told him was that it wasn’t poisonous to humans. That’s it. He shouldn’t have trusted that.

 

He waited in line to be directed to a landing pad on the port, sending in the ship code while he glared at the blinking light. Maybe it was telling him he’s too impaired to be flying right now. He’s fairly sure he’s out of drunk territory and firmly into hungover, but he’s heard some ships require a breathalyzer to start because of drunk fliers.

 

He sighed, touching down on the pad and feeling a little ill inside. It took him a good two minutes to work up the energy to get up and head towards the front of the ship. He wasn’t feeling good enough to cover the True Mandalorian insignia, so he just shook his head and went for the ramp in the front area, pocketing a credits pouch on the way, dreaming of the most greasy burger he could find, pressing the button to lower the hatch… and came face to face with a teenager…

 

He raised an eyebrow at the kid who was looking at him with a nervous frown. He looked around and saw the salles on either side of him were unoccupied and cleared of all workers. The kid, wearing a MechaniCorps badge around his neck, seemed to be the only other person in the area.

 

“Why was I directed to a cleared area? Am I in trouble?”

 

“I need you to turn off all ship functions, right now. Everything.”

 

Jango reared back a little, shocked. “Why?”

 

The kid made a nervous little look around, mumbling something to himself. “Listen, something is wrong with your ship, and very likely we can save it if we turn off all ship functions.”

 

Jango took a good five seconds to wonder if they had _detected_ something wrong with his ship when he went to land, but the kid seemed… well, if he knew what was wrong with it he would just tell him, right? “The force… told you something is wrong with my ship.”

 

He let out a little sigh, relieved that Jango seemed to get it. “I told the guide monitor to direct you to an empty area. Please, there is something wrong, I’m not sure yet, but the best idea I have is to turn off all ship functions and try to figure it out while it’s not currently in danger of blowing up in our faces.”

 

Jango nodded for a few seconds before waving a hand at the kid. “Hey, c’mere, I think I know what you’re talking about.”

 

He lead the way back to the cockpit, noting the way the redhead kept a respectable distance from him, and the white knuckled grip on his data pad as they went. He had a toolbelt with a multitude of scanners and tools hooked to him. He looked like a tiny little mechanic in the making, ready to become those sleezy middle aged port workers who hit on Jango two minutes after meeting him and offer him a _discount_ if he’ll have some fun with them.

 

Nah, this kid seemed to poised for that. All stiff and biting at the bit to get his work done with as efficiently as possible. The temple made cute little minions who did their work properly like they were supposed to, he guessed. What kind of pay did that give? The kid couldn’t be any older than sixteen, and already with a likely full time job, he hoped they were paying him proper. That would be fucked up.

 

He pointed at the console where the light was still blinking at him. He’d been planning on grabbing breakfast and snatching a worker to tell him what that light meant, but is seems, the force _does_ look out for people, he guesses.

 

The kid stared at the light for about three seconds before pulling out his scanner and pulling a cord out of the side of it, connecting it to a port at the top of the console that Jango hadn’t even _known_ was there. The scanner beeped at him, like it was offended by its own readings, and the kid gave him a frantic wide eyed look, pulling the cord back and putting the scanner back on his belt.

 

“Where’s your hyperdrive located? Specifically the fuel lines.”

 

Jango blinked at him a few times before heading in the other direction, away from the living quarters, back towards the ship center next to the kitchen, there was a panel on the wall. He pointed at it and the kid plopped himself down on the floor and grabbed another tool out of his belt, using a combination of the force and a weird little bendy thing to pry the damn thing off the wall and set it aside.

 

Now that it was open Jango seemed to realize what that blinking light meant, because smoke was billowing out in a white cloud, making him choke so hard he nearly threw up with his stomach already revolting like it was.

 

“If you have a filtration system now would be the time to turn it on.”

 

Jango left back for the cockpit to turn on the filters. There were probably other panels in the ship he could access it at but he honestly spent so much time in the cockpit it was the first thought in his mind to turn on just about anything. With the fans whirring above head to filter the smoke out, he came back to find the kid still on the floor, using an omnitool to unlock gears and bolts, before the whole fuel line went silent, completely turned off.

 

He started working on pulling pieces of it apart, shoulders more relaxed, obviously less freaked out now that he knew the source of the issue and was on his way to fixing it. Speaking of fixing it-

 

He sunk down to the ground next to him, sliding down the wall with a heavy sigh as he sat against it, right next to the panel the kid was working on. “So… how much is this gonna cost? To fix it all, I mean.”

 

The kid took a few seconds to come out of his work fog, and when he did he gave Jango a weird look. “It just needs some replacement tubes. We practically throw those things out on a daily, it won’t cost anything to fix. It’s mainly a pain because with broken tubes you’re leaking fuel into the hold, and the more that gets in the air, the more likely the whole ship is to blow up as soon as you hit a spark.”

 

Jango processed that with a slow mind and took a minute to come to a rather obvious conclusion. “Um, what would happen to a person who’s been breathing in this air without turning on their filtration system for, I don’t know, a tenday straight?”

 

The kid turned to him and gave him a long look. “Dizziness, headaches, and nausea, to begin with, before a fainting spell and finally, if you don’t get any fresh air, likely suffocation and death.”

 

Jango winced, letting out a small groan. “I thought I was just hungover.”

 

The kid gave a little sigh, pulling half the fuel line and fuel system, putting it on the ground next to him. “Okay, crisis mostly averted, I’ll comm the main guide station and tell them to put a force field around the ship so no one can get in without a badge or the passcode, and you keep the filtration system running. Half an hour outside the ship and a trip to the medical center should get you clear headed, and it’ll give me the chance to grab replacement tubes and whatever else I might need to get this back up and running before you need to head out again.”

 

Jango gave him a weird look. “You’re _seriously_ not gonna charge me for that?” He could pay for it, he  _just_ got off a bounty, but the damn mechanics always tried to bleed you dry half the time. 

 

The kid smiled. “I work with the MechaniCorps, I’m not an independent contractor. I’m not gonna charge you for doing my actual job, and I’m not gonna sell you out to the nearest journalist for any funny _insignias_ I find on board.”

 

Jango gave a self deprecating grin at that, shaking his head. “And they say Jetti are ignorant to the ways of the galaxy.”

 

The kid looked way more amused than Jango was anyways. “We’re not ignorant, we just know how to stay in our lane. Jedi are taught to not ask for more than we need. I don’t need your money, and you don’t need anything other than a working fuel system so you don’t blow up in the middle of space. I don’t see why I should ask anymore of you than that.”

 

Jango rolled his eyes, but it looked entirely amused while the kid pulled out his comm to ask the guide system to put a force field around the ship. The kid was all adorable, almost pouting over the implication that he would ask anything of Jango. That he would do something other than help out of the _goodness of his heart_ and the need to be of service to those around him.

 

Were all Jetti kids like this? Or was this one a special little bleeding heart who didn’t want anything but peace and happiness among sentients? For another matter, how long has Jango been breathing in the fuel, and how high was he?

 

He thinks the answer is much too long, and _very_.

 

The kid hung up his comm and turned back to him with a nod towards the door. “Come on, I’ll show you to the med center. Don’t worry about that either, it’s a Jedi run shelter, so they won’t charge you either. They’ll get you clear headed.”

 

Jango nodded, standing. He had to hold the wall for a second as the room swam around him, and the kid was at his elbow like a little magnet, pausing for a moment, before finally putting a hand on Jango’s head, and a second later Jango felt like he could walk without the pain.

 

“It’s not much, but all the temple kids are taught to draw away pain, reduce headaches, stuff like that, small healing. I’m not all too great at it though. The shelter will fix you up better.”

 

Jango hummed, still not willing to risk nodding. “If the force can do that, I won’t argue too much. Lead the way, oh small red haired one.”

 

The kid looked at him with wide amused eyes, lips quirking a little as he lead the way out of the ship, one hand -rough, on the skin of Jango’s bare arm, but long fingered and perfectly manicured, unlike any mechanic Jango had ever seen before him- still on his elbow. “My name is Obi-Wan.”

 

Jango let out a little snort, because for some reason, that name was hilarious, and his vision was funny and dancing a little as they walked. Not like he was going to pass out, but like he was nice and drunk and everything was tilting around him. Force he wished he felt sober. “I’m Jango.”

 

Obi-Wan nodded, being careful with him as he lead him down the ship ramp and outside the light blue force field, before they started down the long empty ship check area, back to where Jango could vaguely hear a crowd in the distance. The air was fresher out here, and for a long minute while they walked, all Jango could do was pull it in, lungs warm like he hadn’t even noticed he was suffocating.

 

But he had been. And Obi-Wan came to help him. Obi-Wan was a good boy who wanted to help strangers and live a Jedi’s way of life without fame and fortune. Jango should keep him.

 

Obi-Wan turned to give him a funny look, before slowly taking his hand back from Jango’s elbow. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to keep… touching.”

 

Jango looked up at the ceiling, marveling at the way it seemed to move so fast while they walked if he just stared directly upwards. “What’s wrong with touching? Except when clothes come off, that’s gross.”

 

Obi-Wan seemed to give him an amused grin, before snorting. “Well, I guess. But Jedi can sometimes grasp a hold of random thoughts when touching others. Not quite telepathy, since most people tend to have very natural shields erected-” Jango snorted at that word, he’s pretty sure that’s funny for some reason, “but I guess when you’re… _impaired_ , it’s hard to keep a shield on things.”

 

Jango let his head roll to the side as Obi-Wan started guiding them through a more busy ship check section, this one with actual people and ships in it while the other had been mainly empty. Not crowded enough to set him on edge -especially without any weapons, wearing the sweatpants he’d fallen sleep in last night and a tee shirt with three holes in it- but enough to make him take notice.

 

“I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.”

 

Obi-Wan just grinned at him like he was the most amusing thing in the world. Jango felt weirdly warm inside when he smiled. What. The. Frip.

 

He must have been giving the kid a shocked look, because Obi-Wan frowned, tilting his head to the side. He had fairly long hair, all straight with waves in it, and it fell in his eyes some. Jango wanted to keep him very much.

 

He’d always wanted a little brother, but Jaster never adopted any other kids. He wants this one, he’s decided.

 

“What’s wrong?”

 

Jango blinked at him a few times, and Obi-Wan led him through a door inset in the middle of the ship check they were currently in, and out the other side was a slew of little shops and open food areas. A tiny little bazaar for this part of the station. “How old are you?”

 

Obi-Wan watched him for another few moments before deciding that was an innocent enough question. “Fifteen.”

 

Jango nodded, following the kid till they got to an inset clear door with a massive red cross over it. Medical center, he guesses.

 

He followed Obi-Wan down a little corridor and was surprised to see that thought the reception desk and back area was in the middle of the hallway, it kept stretching on until it hit another door, identical to the one they’d gone through. Obi-Wan followed his eyes and smiled a little. “Since the space port is round, it’s sectioned off into individual sections. Each section has a medical area, and they connect each section together.”

 

Jango nodded, half understanding. It felt like he was ten shots in at a bar and trying to keep up with the physicist who was chattering on next to him about _numbers_ and other stuff. He could listen all he wanted, but the comprehension just wasn’t as forthcoming.

 

“Kenobi, another stray for us to fix up?” The receptionist seemed amused to see Obi-Wan, so he probably knew her. Right, Jedi healers.

 

Obi-Wan looked much less amused than she was, a little frown on his face. “He’s been breathing in his fuel for the past tenday or so, he should see someone immediately, he’s already fairly impaired.”

 

The woman’s smile fell and she tapped on her data pad for a moment. “Alright, you come with me, I’ll bring you to the healer. He’ll get you set up right.”

 

Before he left through the door to the back, he heard Obi-Wan tell the woman he’d be back in a half hour, and then he kind of drifted while gentle hands that he couldn’t place lead him to a soft bed and helped him lay back. That was nice of them.

 

There was a prick on his lower arm, and then another two in his neck, and he winced, before closing his eyes and just drifting.

 

When he finally came back to himself, his headache was gone, and he could sit up without wanting to throw up, but he took it slowly anyways, sitting up with caution. No dizziness, no… bad.

 

“Oh you’re awake. Feel any better?”

 

He looked over to the corner of the room. He was laying on the bedspread in a fluffy white medical bed, in a room that was bright and white and sterile… and yet, still, no headache. “I feel great, actually.”

 

Obi-Wan was sitting with an oversized tool kit next to him and a bag of tubing, reading through something on his data pad. He looked relieved. “Thank goodness for that, you were really sick for a while there. You remember what happened right?”

 

Jango nodded slowly. “My… fuel line broke? It was leaking into the air in my ship, made me sick.”

 

Obi-Wan nodded. “Yeah. You’ve been out about forty-five minutes. They had to put a line in your arm to replace fluids, you were a little dehydrated, but the healer got everything else and says you should be fit as ever now.”

 

He nodded towards him, with an almost questioning look on his face, like he was waiting for Jango to say that he felt fine again. Jango felt the need to reassure him of that, and he nodded back, a grin spreading on his face. “Yup, feel amazing, better than I have in days. We ready to go back to get to work on the fuel line now?”

 

Obi-Wan nodded and stood up, lifting up the tools and tubing. “Ready whenever you are.”

 

Jango got off the bed with a slow stretch, before they both paused when his stomach grumbled. Right, he’s been so ill these past few days the only thing he’s really had was that weird blue drink at the bar the night before. He was starving. “Any good burgers around here?”

 

Obi-Wan just nodded and lead the way out.

 

Obi-Wan was a quiet worker, locked in his own little mental world while he worked on the fuel line. Jango had spent the first half hour checking on the filtration of the air, and cleaning up random clutter that had built up over the past few weeks without him noticing. Normally he was -as Jaster put it- almost anal over keeping his area clean, even going so far as to scrub things down in the ship after most trips. But, as it seemed, being poisoned was a hell of a thing.

 

Though he felt amazing now, the healers had cautioned him to be careful for the next few days since there could be lingering remains in his body, he could hit fatigue or nausea pretty easily if he wasn’t careful.

 

He winced when he found laundry piled up in the corner of his bedroom, sighing as he went back into the hallway to open up the closet caddy corner to where Obi-Wan was still sitting on the ground and meticulously putting back together his fuel lines. He wouldn’t be able to start the ship until Obi-Wan had it all back together, but he had a small generator for the appliances on the ship itself. His father had insisted, saying he didn’t want to be caught without if he ran out of fuel somewhere.

 

He opened up the closet where there was a small washer and dryer sitting there, dumping the first load of clothes inside so he could go get more until the thing was full and start it.

 

By the time that load was finished a half hour later Obi-Wan was starting to put the fuel line back together so he could finally put it all back into the wall.

 

Jango sat down next to him like he’d been sitting before, after switching all the clothes to the dryer. Obi-Wan gave him a little smile, still working, making to complaint about Jango watching him, though Jango thought he had to know that Jango was watching _him_ , and not the work.

 

Obi-Wan was young enough to be a kid brother to him. He may have been high off his gourd earlier, but he remembered that well enough. He had these delicate looking hands that were rough with lightsaber and tool callouses. He was confident enough to approach strangers, but cautious enough not to trust them until they obviously either earned it, or proved themselves impaired and a little useless. He… Jango sort of wanted a brother. Sort of. Maybe. Yeah.

 

Maybe he was just lonely. He was too young to want a kid. Sure, he knew that at some point in the future it would be a great idea, but he was only twenty one. He had time for kids later. But a little brother that he could spoil and take on bounty hunts with him, that would be nice.

 

He was too paranoid to take any of the other Mandalorians with him on hunts. Not because he didn’t trust them, because he was twice the target any of the rest of them were, as the son of the Mand'alor. He couldn’t drag anyone else into this, he would just put the kid in danger.

 

“Do Jedi kids who don’t get picked for padawans ever get adopted? Or go back to their birth families?”

 

Obi-Wan seemed unphased at that, hands gentle as he tightened a line into place. “Depends on the person, really. Sometimes kids get sent back home, but only if they choose it. They’re given their temple stipend and sent back if they want, or they can join any of the corps that will accept them. You have to be tested to join corps. I couldn’t join the healers because I didn’t test naturally high enough. I didn’t want to join the AgriCorps, though the council wanted to send me there, because it was my highest test score, but they accept the wishes of the students within reason. I may have better natural ability with plants, but I feel calmer with machines.”

 

Jango nodded, looking down at his hands. He had bigger hands than the kid. More obvious callouses. Darker skin. Darker hair and eyes.

 

He didn’t have freckles. Now that he was sitting so close to Obi-Wan he could see faint freckles, and he knew they would be darker after some time in the sunlight. His hair would probably be blonder too.

 

“And adoption?”

 

Obi-Wan was quiet for a minute while he connected things and got the first half of the section fully into place. Halfway done. Halfway till Obi-Wan doesn’t need to be in his ship anymore.

 

Obi-Wan’s reply was quiet, a little painful. “It’s happened, yeah, but I guess they would have to know someone who’d want to first. Plus being an orphan.”

 

Jango was almost entirely sure Obi-Wan fit at least half that criteria. But Jango desperately wanted to keep him. Why did he want to keep this kid so bad?

 

He nodded at the kid, looking a little sad himself. “Well, can’t be too bad I guess. You seem good at your work.”

 

Obi-Wan let out a little snort, and Jango could see a mischievous air to him. “I was so pissed when they wanted to send me to the AgriCorps. I’d been rejected by a specific master no less than three times. Everyone in the temple kept saying that he’d had his eyes on me and a few others in my age group, but they were all constantly telling me he was going to pick me.”

 

“And he picked someone else?”

 

Obi-Wan shook his head, looking a little sad. “He’s vowed to never take a padawan again. His last one fell, and he’s a stubborn old bantha herder.”

 

Jango couldn’t help the snorting little laugh at the honestly childish insult coming out with Obi-Wan’s high Coruscanti accent. It sounded almost comical. “You got mad he didn’t want you? Why did that change where you wanted to go?”

 

Obi-Wan frowned again, nose scrunching up in displeasure. “His specialty was in the living force. I’d spent my entire childhood _sure_ I would be his padawan. I couldn’t keep myself from the visions the unifying force gave me, I couldn’t stop myself from the anxiety the visions gave, but I drowned myself as much as I could in learning the living force. I was horrible at it, but I was good with plants, so I almost became an expert just in that one field. I was angry, because I pushed my own talent aside to learn his so I could be the perfect student, and he refused me _several_ times.”

 

Well, the kid has a kick to him, he’ll give him that. Still…

 

“Visions?”

 

Obi-Wan coloured red, looking down as he fit more couplings together. He was making quick work of the second half of the fuel lines. The dryer beeped, the clothes done drying, but Jango ignored it for now.

 

“I can’t _help_ them. I don’t get why people always insist that I’m not trying hard enough if I still have visions. I can’t help it. It’s how I knew you were coming. Well, I knew a damaged ship was coming in anyways, but I didn’t know you were piloting until you opened up.”

 

Jango looked fascinated. “You’ve seen _me_ before?”

 

Obi-Wan paused for a long moment, before going back to reconnecting things. “Listen, you can’t put all your faith in visions. They might come true, they might not.”

 

“I’m not asking you to tell me my future, but what _did_ you see with me if it wasn’t me piloting this ship?”

 

Obi-Wan just hummed, focusing on the fuel line now. It took a long minute of silence before he spoke up again. “It’s weird. You’ll probably just think it was me being weird. Sometimes visions are like that, where you think it’ll be something important, but it’s just a confusion conversation you weren’t supposed to hear in the first place. Some mother scolding their child for being rude; a couple celebrating an anniversary; children playing in the park. Just unimportant conversations you’ll never be a part of to begin with.”

 

Jango _really_ wanted to know. “Can you tell me anyways?”

 

Obi-Wan went quiet, as if weighing the options, before reaching out for the man, palm up, an invitation. “Can I show you instead?”

 

Jango looked at the palm for barely a few seconds before putting his hand on Obi-Wan’s. Obi-Wan’s hands were smaller. So much smaller. He’d grow more.

 

He couldn’t see anything but their surroundings at first, and then-

 

_Jaster sat on a stone bench in the garden, basking in the heat of the greenhouse garden. It wasn’t quite the same as sunlight, but this planet was a cloudy place more often than not, rainy and green. They’d had to build greenhouses for the kids to get somewhere warm to play outside. Jaster should have thought of this years ago._

 

_The bench had a thick layer of padded cushion on top of it, and Jaster would have felt more embarrassed at needing that if he was younger, but his leg was stiff more often than not now days, it was hard to be upset when he was just thankful he could be outside without being in that damn hoverchair._

 

_“Well I never thought I’d see the day you’d willingly stop working for more than ten minutes, but here you are.”_

 

 _Jango came into the greenhouse garden with that little phrase, looking tired and a little darker than usual._ He was older… actually, he was likely at least thirty-five in this vision. This had to be years and years off from now.

 

_Jaster just gave his son an amused little grin, shaking his head. “I know they say nature over nurture is how it works, but I still say I passed all my terrible habits down to you. Work too much, might as well be talking about both of us.”_

 

_Jango sat next to him with his own fond smile. “And like all habits, Ben comes rolling in and we give into him without a fuss.”_

 

 _Jaster just looked fond. Old and weathered and seen too much shit to stop being jaded, but_ fond _, like he’d found something else he was going to hold onto with all he had._ Jango sees that look on his face when Jaster talks about the True Mandalorians, about Jango, about keeping them all safe and happy, even if they had to leave their ancestral home to do it. _“How could I begrudge the man who puts that smile on my son’s face?”_

 

_Jango grinned, just like Jaster knew he would, because why wouldn’t he grin when they talked about Ben._

 

Jango had to gasp in a breath when he came back to himself, not out of shock, but because he’d held it the whole time they were under, and his chest was burning with that need. Obi-Wan winced. “Sorry, you get used to that after a while. I didn’t think to warn you.”

 

Jango just kept pulling in air while Obi-Wan went back to work, and after a few minutes, spoke up again. “Okay, so you’ve seen me, you’ve seen my future. Alright.”

 

Obi-Wan shrugged. “Well, I’m not fully sure about that. Not all visions come true. Sometimes I see you angry, sometimes I see you with a son. I’m sure not all I’ve seen will come true.”

 

Jango’s eyes locked onto the kid, wide. “What? You’ve seen _more_?”

 

Obi-Wan just looked down, cringing, waves of guilt rolling off him. “I… listen, I’m not _obsessed_ with you or anything, I promise, I can’t help what I see in the visions, and sometimes it’s you.”

 

The dryer beeps again, and this time Jango got up to go pull clothes out. He didn’t want to leave, so he stood there, folding them with slightly numb fingers while Obi-Wan kept working behind him.

 

“I still don’t know who Ben is. He’s mentioned in some of the visions. I guess he might be your husband? I’m not sure.”

 

Jango paused, a sweater half folded in his hands, before finishing it and putting it on the pile. He’d bet an entire bounty that Ben was a nickname for Obi-Wan. Why else would the kid have visions about him.

 

Maybe he _does_ ask him to come with him? Is that why the force put him here now? Because he needed to ask Obi-Wan to come back to the Rishi Maze with him? Be his little brother and finally have someone he can talk to…

 

He turned around, already opening his mouth to ask him to leave the Jedi corps and go home with him, but Obi-Wan was sitting there on the floor, sniffling while he kept working, hands efficient and quick, nearly finished, and he was _sniffling_ , like he was going to cry, and Jango felt horrible.

 

He knelt down next to the kid, reaching out to pet a hand through his soft hair before squeezing his neck. Jaster did that to him when he was having a panic attack as a kid, and it always made him feel safe. “Hey, I’m not angry at you. I’m not angry at all. I’m… confused. I don’t know why you’ve been having visions about me of all people, but I’m not mad.”

 

Obi-Wan didn’t stop working. He needed something to do with his hands and this was good as anything. He fit together three more power cells and pushed them back in place, lifting the second half of the fuel line system back into the hole in the wall so he could connect it all together. “It’s been happening since I was a kid. When I was three, I dreamt about you for the first time. I asked Master Yoda if that meant you were going to be brought to the temple. He said nine was too old for the crèche to accept.”

 

Jango gave a little snort, thumb rubbing the side of Obi-Wan’s neck as he watched Obi-Wan plug in the last cord he needed and sit back, the fuel line complete. Nothing keeping the kid here now but conversation.

 

“I’m as force null as force null gets, kid.”

 

Obi-Wan smiled a little, using the force to get the panel back into place without having to bang on it. “I know. Your dad got your midichlorian count when you were thirteen and wouldn’t shut up about how smart you were for being so intuitive with a completely null count.”

 

Jango hung his head a little, unable to hold back a deep laugh at that. He’d been so embarrassed about that. He’d thought Jaster would be sad at a null count, but the man had been so _proud_ at how smart it meant he was.

 

“That’s true. Hey, how do you know that one came true for sure? I thought you said you didn’t know which was which?”

 

Obi-Wan shrugged. “I just always know which ones came true and which ones didn’t, but not till their time passes.”

 

Jango nodded, pointedly not asking what ones didn’t come to pass. He might find out one day. He might not want to find out at all.

 

He was going to ask if he could keep him. If he could bring him home to the Rishi Maze and be a part of their family. If he could bring him all over the galaxy and let him build a greenhouse on Trendilio so the kids had somewhere warm to play when it’s cloudy and dull outside. If he would leave the Jedi corps for someone he’s only met in his head before now.

 

“Something’s wrong.”

 

The kid was up and off like a shot, heading for the cockpit, and when Jango followed him he’d already opened a channel to the port system so he could read off what was going on outside to cause such panic.

 

“I think… are they charging weapons?”

 

Obi-Wan magnified the video feed at the bottom, and sure enough, a ship the same size as the station was in front of the station, and charging weapons. Jango pushed himself into action before Obi-Wan could figure out what was going on, and turned on the engines, closing the hatch and starting up the pre-flight checks, hoping that the filtration system had taken care of the fuel issues, because if not, they might explode before they were out of the docking port.

 

“We need to go, now. Put on your seatbelt.” He didn’t bother with his own, just punching it as soon as Obi-Wan scrambled to get his on, still looking confused and horrified.

 

When they were far enough out of the port, behind the ship that had pulled up, Jango came to a stop behind the ship, turning just in time to see various other ships breaking from the port docks in all directions like little darts. And then the port itself exploded when the ship opened fire on it.

 

Jango got the hell out of there as fast as he could, not waiting to see if the runaway ships would be the next targets on it’s list.

 

***

 

Obi-Wan was in shock. He hadn’t spoken a word since Jango had taken off, and he still wasn’t speaking now. Jango had put him in the single spare bedroom on the ship, letting him burrow into extra blankets and pillows in an attempt to comfort him. He wasn’t sure if a hug would be welcome right now. Not yet anyways.

 

He sat next to him in the nest of soft covers Obi-Wan had managed to burrow into, watching him stare blankly at his hip, like he couldn’t even focus on it.

 

Suddenly, it hit him, Obi-Wan was raised a Jedi, he would have _felt_ it when…

 

He didn’t know what to say to that. He’d never lost people that he could _sense_ in his mind before.

 

Obi-Wan reached over and put his hand -so small, not done growing yet, but so rough, already with a lifetime of training behind it- on his own, and curled his fingers so he was holding Jango’s hand on the blanket he’d curled up on. Jango could feel the heat returning to him, and breathed out a sigh of relief as he realized the shock was fading some.

 

Obi-Wan had been _so cold_ when he’d brought him in here.

 

Obi-Wan’s voice sounded hoarse, painfully tight. “That station had over five thousand people on it. We take a body count every morning when the ships come in to dock, the last count tipped us over five thousand workers and ship crews.”

 

Jango closed his eyes, breathing in deep for a few seconds. “We saw a lot of ships get away. Escape pods too. They all had longer warning than we did, since we were in a closed off garage section.”

 

Obi-Wan nodded, but it didn’t look pleased in any way. He just looked… he looked like Jaster had, after Galidraan, when they lost twenty men and fled the Mandalorian sector entirely. For Jaster, that had been… it was more than just leaving twenty dead supercommandos behind. When Master Dooku told them someone in the senate was hunting them out, they left the sector entirely for their lives.

 

They left their homes. Many of their clans followed them, but many didn’t. They left behind people who wouldn’t leave with them, and they left behind their home system. For Jaster, it was painful. He was the Mand'alor, and it was hard to fathom still being that, without Mandalorian soil to put roots in.

 

Obi-Wan grew up in the temple. A master didn’t pick him, and so they sent him to work and live on the space port. Who knows how long he’s been there… and to watch it…

 

What home did he have left…

 

“Do you want me to take you back to the temple?”

 

Obi-Wan closed his eyes, letting out a little sob, holding tighter to Jango’s hand, and Jango turned his palm up so he had a better grip on it. “I know you don’t know me very well…”

 

He trailed off, breaths coming out in panting little cries as he tried to get a hold of himself, but he didn’t need to finish that for Jango to get it, and the man squeezed Obi-Wan’s hand with a sad little noise.

 

“No, I don’t know you very well, you’re right, but I would take you with me if you asked it of me. I would take you back to… the Rishi Maze.” He’d never willingly said that to anyone, where the True Mandalorians had relocated to, but he said it now. It was important. Obi-Wan needed to know that Jango didn’t need visions to know how important Obi-Wan was.

 

Obi-Wan looked up at him with eyes so sad and green, and Jango wanted to keep him wrapped up and safe forever. “Why?”

 

Jango opened and closed his mouth a few times, not entirely sure what to say.

 

 _Why_ did he want to keep him? Was it anything specific? Was it something he said? The more he’d watched Obi-Wan, listened to him talk, trusted him enough to fix his ship, to take him to medical and fix him… the more he wanted to keep him. He looked away. This was too intimate. He didn’t _do_ intimate, it’s why he couldn’t do sex, it’s why he sometimes got nervous just sharing a room with someone. Intimate felt weird and invasive and… terrifying. He wasn’t even scared that someone would hurt him, it was just a soul deep terror that gripped him and told him to back away before things got further. A discomfort.

 

He was uncomfortable right now, but it wasn’t the intimacy, it was that this boy, this… he’s not even fully grown, and here he is, asking why someone would want to keep him, as if he’s just used to being tossed out-

 

 _Like the Jedi tossed him out, gave him a new home, only for it to be taken from him again_.

 

“I… It’s hard to say. I don’t normally like being around people. I take solitary missions, and I don’t make friends. Dad says I’m not good at talking to people. It’s scary, letting them see your daily life, your routine. The more they know about you the more they can hurt you.”

 

Obi-Wan didn’t protest, and Jango was hit with the realization that he likely already knew that. They taught their Jedi the same way they taught the children of the True Mandalorians. They were raised the same, if for different reasons. Jango squeezed his hand again. It was strange, he didn’t want to pull it back. He wanted to hug him. That was usually too intimate for him as well. Touching people.

 

Jaster usually got the brunt of Jango’s hugging urges. He had raised him, he was his father in all but blood. Jango could trust him with anything. He didn’t _want_ to bare his soul to him, but if he had to do it to anyone, Jaster would be the likely candidate.

 

“You say you’ve been having visions about me since you were little. That means, in some way, for some reason, the force has connected us, right? Well, I don’t feel the force. I’m as force null as someone can get. I don’t feel it the same way you do. But I know that we’re connected, because for some reason, I want to keep you. I’m not counting the minutes until you leave my life again. I want you here. It’s not thought out, it’s like when you see a kid with a pet tooka, and you just think that you _want_ a tooka, because it looks nice.”

 

Obi-Wan scrunched up his nose a little, but Jango could see most of his shock was gone, so he was hopeful Obi-Wan was getting better.

 

“I’m a tooka?”

 

Jango didn’t look at him, cringing as he stared at a wall, but he could feel the kid watching him, obviously confused. “Um… well no? I mean, you could want anything, right? Like a tooka, or an ice cream, anything can catch your eye. I… oh that sounds creepy, like I want to keep you for _unsavory_ reasons or something, that’s not it at all, I just mean, I don’t have the force like you do, but I obviously feel _something_ for you, because I wouldn’t mind bringing you back to Trendilio, back to my father.”

 

Obi-Wan was quiet for a long time, and finally, Jango sighed.

 

“Listen, you can’t deny our connection, if you’ve been having visions about me since I was little, then obviously you know it’s _something_ . The True Mandalorians live on that planet you showed me in your vision. We’re… we’re not so many as we were before. We’re not _few_ , but we accept many new people who come to us. If you don’t want to go back to the temple, at least come to Trendilio.”

 

Jaster could help. He would figure out what to do with the kid. Jango wanted to _keep_ him, but Jaster might have a better idea in case he didn’t want to be kept. At the very least, the journey back would be long enough to let the kid think.

 

Obi-Wan just squeezed his hand. “Okay. Thank you.”

 

Jango nodded, getting up from the bed reluctantly, to go put them into hyperspace on the path back to the Rishi Maze. “Okay. Of course, anytime.”

 

He left the room, feeling like he had no idea how to speak with people, like he was some blundering idiot. But, he had the chance to prove he wasn’t, and that’s what he wanted.

 

***

 

Obi-Wan was sleeping when Jango got back to the room, a look of utter fatigue on his face while he slept. Jango was going to assume that feeling that many people die brought on a level of exhaustion that many would succumb to much sooner, so he just breathed out a sigh of relief and went to go about his business as usual.

 

When he finally passed out as well, it wasn’t much later. He was still sore and had a bit of a migraine from poisoning, and today was… harder, than usual. Much harder.

 

He woke to a quiet ship, but when he finally made his way out of the fresher and to the little kitchen in the ship, Obi-Wan was sitting at the table, staring blankly at the metal, like he wasn’t sure what to do with himself. He was holding a pillow in his lap, hugging it against his stomach.

 

Oh no, he was a hugger. Jango could probably… well not _often_ , but he might be able to… Jaster could hug him. Jaster was good with hugs. If only they could get to him faster.

 

“We’re going to need to get to a planet with a republic banking system soon.”

 

Jango turned on the kettle to boil, pulling some mugs out of the cabinet for tea. “We do?”

 

Obi-Wan nodded decisively, not looking up at him. “The jedi order probably thinks I’m dead. They’ll freeze my accounts. It’s not much, but if something goes wrong I would rather have the credits beforehand.”

 

Jango nodded with a little hum, looking through the stores. “The closest planet with a republic banking system is three hours away, and I was already planning to stop there for a refuel. We’ll grab you some clothes and anything else you might need there, and you can get your credits moved to another account.”

 

Obi-Wan just nodded again, finally looking up at him. “Thank you.”

 

Jango couldn’t help but smile at him, though small, because Obi-Wan just looked up at him like he was his saving grace, and Jango wanted to _be_ that for him, he wanted to keep him safe, make him stronger until Obi-Wan could handle the republic, the galaxy at large, and the Rishi Maze too, without any help from anyone else. Jango was right back at his original thoughts that he wanted to keep him. So badly.

 

“Now, dietary requirements? You look human, but I don’t judge by looks.”

 

Obi-Wan gave him a shy little smile, shaking his head a little. “Stewjoni anatomy, human, no allergies. Probably the same dietary needs as you have.”

 

Jango nodded, moving to put a mug in front of the kid and his own spot and grabbing some tea tins out the hold. Obi-Wan gave them a short glance over before reaching for the high-caf black tea. Jango mentally sighed, knowing that the kid was likely as big a caf addict as most the people back at the True Mandalorian base on Trendilio.

 

Fifteen and already a caffeine addict. He was going to get along with the others _very well_.

 

“Good enough, I’m allergic to almost all forms of sugar and kale, so that’s not on board.”

 

Obi-Wan looked personally offended by that, and if Jango had to hazard a guess, he’d say the kid probably lived off of sugar as well. Of course he likely did, he was a _kid_ , living alone on a spaceport without any adults to tell him not to eat his body weight in sugar other than the medical staff.

 

Obi-Wan sighed. “I can live with that, I guess.”

 

Jango didn’t really know what to say to that. No complaints, no questions about _‘oh but how can a person be allergic to sugar, you’re just picky’_ , no questions about _‘well I’m not allergic to it, so I’ll bring it on board’_ , no… nothing. He stopped behind Obi-Wan’s chair, and after a few seconds of debate over it, he put his hand on Obi-Wan’s shoulder, squeezing once.

 

If Obi-Wan found that weird, he didn’t mention it, just putting the tea bag in his mug to wait for water.

 

Jango awkwardly turned away to go make breakfast for them.

 

***

 

Dridesu was a nice sunny little tourist planet, and it was the best place for Jango to get perishable foods for the journey back home and some clothes for the kid.

 

And better than that, the planet was green little towns all over this part of the hemisphere, so the two of them were almost immediately cleared for ground landing, and Jango was thankful, because he’s not sure if Obi-Wan would freak out in another spaceport or not. Jango knows _he_ might. It was a little soon for that without apprehension.

 

“Alright, you know your way back from the republic banking building?”

 

Obi-Wan was heading there to transfer funds before his accounts got frozen, and Jango had measurements to go grab the kid some clothes while he was dealing with all that damn paperwork they were gonna send his way. Of course, a little tourist trap like this would have a republic banking building, but that didn’t mean it would be any more easy to deal with, just maybe a little less crowded.

 

Obi-Wan let out a weird little noise, almost sounding embarrassed. “Yes, I know my way back.”

 

Jango nodded, pointing in the direction of the sunny little village like streets he knew had shops and cafes all over. “I’ll be down that street when you finally get out, if you can’t spot me my frequency is in your comm.”

 

Obi-Wan’s cheeks were puffed out a little, and Jango wondered if he knew he was pouting like a five year old. “I’m not a kid.”

 

The puffy cheeks say otherwise. Jango grinned and ruffled his red hair, making him pout harder. “I know you aren’t, go off and do your business, I’ll be in the shopping district.”

 

Jango wondered for a moment if this is what being a brother feels like. Possibly. Embarrassing your little siblings while strangers smile at you, messing up their hair, but also, making sure they have what they need. Jango wanted to give Obi-Wan everything he needs, because Obi-Wan deserves that.

 

Oh god, was he going to pander to his own kid like this? Jaster never coddled him, Jango wouldn’t have let him, and Jaster was way too efficient for something like that. Jango wanted to wrap this kid up and _hide_ him from the evils of the galaxy around them.

 

 _Obi-Wan would be_ fine _,_ he told himself, as he walked through a generic clothing store for pajamas that could rival the heavy Jedi issued mechanic uniform Obi-Wan had been wearing when he came to him. He had a robe on top of it, and closed up no one even knew he was wearing a uniform underneath it, but Jango knew the kid would likely be freezing in anything Jango himself would have worn to sleep in.

 

Jango needed some thinner shirts. He wasn’t comfortable sleeping in the same room as others without a shirt on, but he normally went without.

 

Kriff, but here he was thinking about pajamas for himself, as if he might actually sleep near the kid. He grabbed some thick sweatpants and sweaters in the kid’s size, enough that he would only have to do laundry once in the middle of the week long trip back to the Rishi Maze, and went looking for ship clothes.

 

Probably stuff that Obi-Wan could work in. He needed to keep the kid busy. He knew that people could have delayed reactions to trauma, and the shock had set in pretty fast in the kid, but none of the crying, none of the screaming nightmares, none of that had come up so far. He needed to keep him busy until they got back to the Rishi Maze so Jango wouldn’t be alone with the fallout.

 

He wanted a kid one day, didn’t mean he was anywhere _close_ to ready to take care of that mess yet. Jaster once called him unfit to deal with other people’s emotions. It hadn’t been a complaint, just an observation, but he didn’t want to hurt a kid locked in hyperspace with him by not knowing how to comfort him.

 

He was leaving the store with bags, decidedly _not_ thinking about the sleep thin shirts he’d gotten himself in one of them, when he caught sight of a storefront in glaringly pastel colours. It, like many of the stores in this little street, was bright and open in the sunshine, with blooming plants spilling out into the cobblestone pathway. It looked all homey and nice, like the yarn store next door, and the boutique on the other side. They all looked so wholesome and nice.

 

Maybe he could just leave the kid here and he’d live a nice happy life among the plants and street cats. He could be rid of this insanity in minutes if he just… left…

 

But, he’d never do that. For one, he’d blow the whole story to Jaster as soon as he got home, and then Jaster would cuff him around the head and call him an idiot and run off to find the kid himself, and then Jango would be worried because the doctors said prolonged travel is bad for Jaster’s knee, so he’d run off after him, and end up having to look at Obi-Wan’s sad little face when the kid knows he’d _abandoned_ him on a strange planet-

 

The store was getting closer. Was it his feet doing that? Apparently so. He headed out of the sunshine and into the closed doorway, surprised to see that their doors were shut when everywhere else on the street seemed to have them open for the warmth.

 

It was a baby store. Jango almost turned right back around and left again.

 

Almost. He caught sight of something that made him go inside anyways. Stuffed animals, sitting in a pyramid display on one side of the back of the room, where they kept stuff for older kids. He set down his bags next to the display and reached out to feel one of the stuffed animals. It was a bear, something he didn’t know was native to this planet, but it made sense, with all the sprawling forests and such. They were fairly harmless compared to some creatures, but he knew they could get pretty dangerous when mad.

 

And yet, they made stuffed animals out of them. It was soft to the touch, fuzzy and stuffed with fluff. Not hard.

 

Good for hugging.

 

He gave a critical eye to the rest of the stuffed animals, before begrudgingly admitting to himself that he didn’t know enough about them to tell which one Obi-Wan might like, so he simply grabbed the one he’d already felt, and picked up the bags again. He made his way to the counter to pay, where a young woman was sitting behind, knitting something while she kept an eye on the store.

 

Jango didn’t even know you _could_ knit without looking. He was fairly impressed.

 

She gave him a gentle smile, moving her stuff to the side so she could ring him up. “Did you find everything okay?”

 

Jango nodded, looking at the wall behind her with random nick nacks and such. It might have been catering to babies and the like, but the store seemed to have something for everyone, such as all tourist traps. “Yes. What’s that?”

 

He pointed to a rack of weird shaped necklaces. They were strange and bulky, and the material was weird, especially with the plain black cords they were attached to.

 

The girl grinned, pulling one of them off the rack to show him. “Basically, they’re chew toys. Even sentients can get the need to gnaw on something, and they’re pretty popular with teenagers and young kids who aren’t fully weaned off pacifiers yet.”

 

Jango looked it over for a long moment, before looking back to the rack she’d pulled it from. He sighed a little. “Could I get that blue mushroom?”

 

She just nodded back with a little hum, adding it to the total cost. He felt a little ridiculous leaving the store that he had never planned on entering, but when he was going through the aisles of a generic grocery store with the bags piled in the cart and wondering if Obi-Wan would prefer sweet tubers or regular, he wasn’t freaking out. He was calm enough to go through the motions of buying restock for his ship, not wondering if the kid might be better off here.

 

He went through the self checkout, not up for any more conversation after the last one, and ended up with way more bags than when he started. He had to go back to the ship to put them all away, but he came back to the little shopping center and sat down at a little outdoor cafe to wait.

 

He wasn’t going to abandon the kid, he wasn’t going to freak out over wanting to take care of him. If the kid was telling the truth, some weird force occurrence was connecting them, so he might as well calm down and go with it.

 

By the time Obi-Wan finally showed up, Jango was wondering if _he_ had been the one abandoned, but Obi-Wan came tiredly trudging through the square he was sitting in, right for him, body looking tired, and sat across from him with a sad little pout.

 

“Banking is a process I’m glad I’m not involved in.”

 

Jango gave him a little smile, oddly happy to see the kid. “Too much paperwork?”

 

Obi-Wan looked almost personally offended by all that paperwork, his little nose twisting up. “Yes. Far too much.”

 

Jango just gave him a little smile, tilting his head towards the cafe. “That sucks. Want to get lunch before we head out?”

 

Obi-Wan eyed a child with an ice cream sunday as big as her face, nodding.

 

Yeah, Jango was keeping him.

 

***

 

Jango didn’t directly hand him the oversized teddy bear, already feeling awkward enough about buying it in the first place. He did though, clip the tags off and leave it on Obi-Wan’s messy bed with the mushroom pendant hanging around its neck.

 

It was much less awkward than pretending he knew what he was doing. Because he didn’t. Know what he was doing, that is.

 

So, he didn’t have to explain himself -thank the force he couldn’t feel- and he didn’t have to worry about any other incidents of possibly wanting to ditch a traumatized child on a random planet, because now that he was thinking clearly again, that was possibly the _worst_ idea he’d ever come up with.

 

Obi-Wan seemed content with whatever he put in front of him. A broken transistor that keeps making a high pitched squealing noise every time Jango has to send transmissions beyond a range of twenty-nine parsecs. A random puzzle he’d picked up on a hunt a year ago and he’d gotten frustrated when he couldn’t figure it out so he forgot about it until now. A trashy romance novel that Meraot, Jaster’s assistant who helps with keeping the True Mandalorians bounties in line, had left on the ship the last time they helped Jango scrub the kitchen when the rice cooker blew up.

 

He needed a new rice cooker…

 

Obi-Wan had finished the transistor in less than half a day. The puzzle had only taken him a few hours to complete. The trashy romance novel had lasted about two hours, if that.

 

He was currently working through Jango’s ebook selection on his data pad with an intense look on his face while Jango cooked dinner in the little kitchen.

 

It was weird and domestic. Things were never this quiet, this _calm_ back on Trendilio. Normally there was too much talk and about ten children coming screaming underfoot while adults tried not to trip over them, random bounty hunters getting into fights in corners while Jango just sighed and tried not to be noticed enough for anyone to _talk_ to him while he was just trying to eat and leave the mess hall alive and not wearing his food.

 

Things were always more… lively, with his people around. Obi-Wan was quiet as a little mouse.

 

“Do you want to watch a holo later? I have a screen set up in my room.”

 

Obi-Wan was quiet for a minute. He’s been here almost four days now. He looked back up at Jango and nodded a little. “That would be nice. Thank you.”

 

He was too polite. The bounty hunters were going to eat him up. Poor kid.

 

Jango’s bunk was bigger than the one Obi-Wan was staying in, so they weren’t so crowded together in it while they watched some old holomovie that Obi-Wan seemed interested in, but this was closer than Jango usually preferred to sit to people while wearing his pajamas -including the new thin sleep shirt that he had gotten when he got Obi-Wan clothes- and Obi-Wan felt like a little space heater next to him while they leaned back against a mountain of pillows.

 

Obi-Wan was mostly tangled up in a fuzzy blanket that he had brought in from his nest, hugging the oversized teddy bear against his stomach. He was mostly on his back on the bed, head tilted to the side so it likely pressed against the side of Jango’s stomach.

 

It’s been there for twenty minutes. He counted. He couldn’t stop thinking about Obi-Wan’s soft hair being slightly curly since he was freshly showered and dried, pressed against his stomach, putting off heat in a way that made Jango hyper aware of him.

 

He had no idea what was going on in the movie, but Obi-Wan was blinking sleepily while he snuggled his head into Jango’s stomach, and Jango could count the tiny little freckles that were pale on his nose -the boy needed sunlight, that was for sure- and Obi-Wan let out a big yawn, leaning further into him, and Jango wanted to bask in this forever.

 

He knew he was weird about touch. He couldn’t stand most hugs, he especially couldn’t stand arms around his neck, he didn’t like his stomach being pressed against others, and Jaster was the only one he knew that could get away with a hug when Jango needed it without making him feel uncomfortable.

 

Obi-Wan seemed to instinctively know that he wasn’t fully comfortable with being touched. Or maybe he’s seen it in his visions. Jango didn’t know. But he also seemed to realize that Jango didn’t _hate_ touch.

 

But he hadn’t willingly touched someone in _years_ that wasn’t Jaster. He used to have friends, back before they all got driven out of the Mandalore sector, friends he would watch movies with like this, just sitting, sometimes talking, usually leaning against each other.

 

He’s not gonna lie, half of them ended up ditching him around sixteen when puberty hormones made most of them want a _different_ sort of touch, while it hadn’t changed a thing in him.

 

But he was counting the minutes with Obi-Wan turning his head in towards his stomach, eyes fluttering shut while he tried valiantly to stay awake. Needless to say, it didn’t work. Jango moved as gently as he could, scooting down the bed so Obi-Wan was curled into the side of his chest instead.

 

He watched in wonder for a long time as Obi-Wan just slept on, _trusting_ him in a way that Jango hasn’t trusted anyone else since he was a kid.

 

He turned just enough in the bed so he could curl up around the teenager, tucking Obi-Wan’s head into his collarbone, and closed his eyes.

 

He’s felt like he was missing something for a long time. This isn’t quite it, but he feels _more_ than he did before.

 

He wants to keep him.

 

***

 

Trendilio wasn’t a sunny planet. They were overcast more often than not, but a relatively dry area, so not too much rain, but they didn’t have much sun out.

 

That’s how it looked when Jango left the ship with a suddenly _shy_ Obi-Wan clinging to his arm, dry and cloudy and not so warm.

 

Obi-Wan’s nose wrinkled up. “This place would be nice with a greenhouse.”

 

Jango gave him an amused look, practically basking in the way Obi-Wan hugged his arm like a lifeline, snuggling into it while wrapped in an oversized sweater Jango had found in the back of his closet. Being able to touch someone without fear of them getting the wrong idea was like a drug, and it’s opened a few floodgates for Jango, to the point where he’s encouraging _hand holding_ like some ten year old with a crush.

 

Obi-Wan seemed absolutely delighted by the idea that he was actually allowed to touch. He’d said he knew that Jango didn’t much like it because of the visions he’d had telling him otherwise. Jango was a little horrified at all the kid seemed to know about him already.

 

Only a little.

 

“Yeah, I’m sure you feeling perpetually cold has nothing to do with that fact.” Obi-Wan was like a little heater, but constantly searching out and stealing all the heat around him. Jango has found him in the engine room more than once, just basking in the heavy heat.

 

Obi-Wan gave him a little shrug, leaning heavily onto Jango’s arm. Obi-Wan thinks this is a nice new planet, even if a bit cold.

 

Jango was going to talk to Jaster about getting a greenhouse put together. It would be nice for the kids to play in, if nothing else.

 

**Author's Note:**

> padawansuggest.tumblr.com
> 
> In case none of that made sense: Jango is very wary of people touching him cause friends of his tried to make things sexual when they hit puberty, and also, issues with pressure and stuff like that. Basically every autistic person I know is picky af about what touches they like. I personally like almost NO touches at all, but if I like you well enough, I'll pet you (especially hands and hair) so tbh, Jango LIKES touch, but he's mainly hella cautious about people cause if they give the wrong touch they're not good people, but Obi hasn't made any mistakes, so he's officially Jango's fave person now thanks.
> 
> Also, yes, sugar allergy is a real thing. I miss gelato and not looking at nutrition facts on foods before I eat them. Jango is lucky tho okay, I didn't even give him gluten or carb allergy. Those also exist, and when you put all three together your life is a living heck.


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